


Anthology of Yellows and Greens

by bittersweetoranges



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Compilation, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of alcohol, More tags to be added, Some angst, lot's of self-indulgent hand-holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10075007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweetoranges/pseuds/bittersweetoranges
Summary: Every chapter is colored in a different hue of Yellow and Green.Sometimes Yellow is steady, maybe it complements instead of blinding.Green can be black in the wrong light, but it doesn't change that it still is.You can say that they're a rush of light passing through the canopy of the trees in summer, or maybe dust caught in the air by a river side.Basically, YamaYachi oneshot compilation.((completed until it isn't, which is when I'm updating))





	1. Chapter 1

Light spills out of the doors and into the chilly night. Yachi’s breath condenses in front of her. Maybe she should have waited for Yamaguchi inside. 

Yachi wants to stay longer and she knows that Yamaguchi does too. But there’s a stack of biology notes weighing down her poor desk that she can’t let sit for long, and Yamaguchi had insisted on walking her home. 

She adjusts the strap of her bag and looks back. Her boys -- they’ll always be her boys -- are huddled at a corner table. Empty plates litter the wooden surface and a fair few bottles are gleaming in the yellow fluorescent lights. Hinata is laughing into his drink as he prods a sleepy Kageyama’s shoulder, which only encourages Tsukishima’s relentless teasing. Yamaguchi, completely used to it, stuffs the last of his things in his bag before catching her eye and standing up.

He waves them off as he makes his way to Yachi. Tsukishima turns on Yamaguchi and smirks. He calls something out that Yachi can’t hear over the chatter of the other patrons, but whatever it was causes the tips of Yamaguchi’s ears to turn red, and Hinata to shake Kageyama out of his stupor with a new wave of vigor. Yamaguchi doesn’t reply and simply calls out a goodbye before he all but runs the rest of the way to her.

“I’m sorry I made you wait.” He says. Even with his back to light, she can see that his face is just bit flushed. She feels compelled to ask him what Tsukishima said -- or if everything is alright, but decides not to.

“It’s alright,” she smiles up at him, “thank you.” He returns the smile, relieved, and slides the door closed. 

It gets just a bit colder now that the vivid yellow of the Izakaya is replaced by the deep blue of the night. Yamaguchi looks at the sky, “cold isn’t it?”

She hums and follows his gaze. The moon peeks between the gaps of the clouds and the stars are few and far in between. She spends a few moments admiring the sky before her eyes slides over to Yamaguchi looking at her. Her face flushes -- just a bit. And she takes comfort in the fact his does too.

“Shall we go Yacchan?” He asks. She nods in the direction of her home and they start walking.

Their shoulders brush as they slowly sway to the staccato beat of their steps. In the silence, she could hear the way Yamaguchi’s shoes scuffs the pavement. It’s been a long time since she’s noticed the way Yamaguchi’s lankiness turned into broad shoulders and longer strides, and yet it’s always the things so deeply rooted in the past that sends waves of affection crashing over her.

Yachi watches Yamaguchi’s breath catch in the air, and she can’t help but laugh to herself.

He closes his eyes and a smile breaks on his lips at the sound, “what’s so funny Yacchan?” 

She wants to tell him that he’s cute, but she decides not to. “What did Tsukishima tell you?” She asks instead.

He chuckles and slips his hands in hers and puts them in his jacket pocket. “He told me to enjoy my walk.” She squeezes his hand in reply.

The callouses on his fingers aren’t as apparent as they were months ago, she can feel the rough scabs on his skin where he cut himself the other day. His grip is warmer than usual.

Yachi supposes, that Yamaguchi’s hands will continue to change everyday. Maybe he’ll never have the same callouses or maybe the cut will scar, but to Yachi they’ll always be as familiar as life.

They’re halfway to her apartment when Yachi rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes for a moment. His shoes continue to scrape the pavement, and Yachi thinks that it sounds like home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning in the end notes.

We stop beneath the bare branches of a plum tree. Their shadows map the cement and crawl across the stars printed on Yamaguchi’s skin.  
He promises me he’ll be quick, and soundlessly lets my hand fall from his grip.  
I watch him angle his camera to catch the moon hiding behind the passing grey. The wisps travel the blank expanse of the sky, almost river-like with the accompanying hum of the night.

Times like this, I feel as if there’s something I should be saying -- something I should know -- but the words slip away from me no matter how much I try to hold on.

 

My hands are sticky from the popsicle now lying forlorn on the ground. There’s a lump in my throat for a reason I can’t recall. We’re seated on the cement beneath the tree. The branches cage the moon in the sky -- did Yamaguchi get his picture?

“It’s alright Hi--” he breathes in and it rattles in his throat, “Yachi. It’s alright, I got my pictures.”

He doesn’t say anymore, but his eyebrows are twitching. He’s struggling to keep his face straight, and I want to do the same.

“Have we…” There’s no need to panic, “been here before?”

My hands shake when I move to feel my pulse. I meet his gaze and hope I don’t waver.

Quietly, ever so slowly, he nods and closes his eyes.

 

There are photo albums hidden under his mattress that he doesn’t want to show me. I’m not supposed to know, but I’ve checked and they’re windows into the past I so covet. They all range from masterful shots taken years ago, to the photos taken by clumsy familiar hands.

There is one picture -- different from the rest. Not tucked beneath a layer of plastic, but instead pinned between the pages. Fold lines marr the vivid bursts of red from a stolen moment in autumn. I think it was taken sometime… last year? I can only remember that he took a picture of me beneath the plum tree while I laughed. My past self would have sworn to burn every detail into my memory, but now all that’s left is the picture in the album he fears I’ll find.

It’s my favorite. It’s the sticky syrup on my hands, proof that it happened.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for implied memory loss.
> 
> all aboard the angst train!! I hope you didn't think I was only going to be posting fluff


	3. Chapter 3

Tadashi rolls over to find Hitoka’s side of the bed empty. Warmth slowly seeps from the mussed sheep-printed sheets and into the cool air.

He reaches for the digital clock on their dresser. The neon green numbers tell him it’s four in the morning. 

Tadashi sits up properly and tries to wipe the sleep from his face, “‘toka?”

His voice barely rises over the doleful and muted crying of the seagulls and the steady hush of the surf against the sand. Tiny pinpricks of light scatter over the deep cerulean of the early morning, visible only from the open door leading to the veranda. 

The silence shakes him awake. Something crashes against his ribs. Mind running through each possible scenario, combing through every detail he can see and infer. No signs of a struggle. No signs of a break-in. But it’s too empty, too quiet, too wrong..

His eyes flit towards the drawer, and his hands twitch. 

_We’re not safe here_ , Tadashi thinks. _We never were._

He reaches to pull it out, but he hears her. It’s small and barely audible, but it’s there. And that’s enough.

Tadashi reigns in his breath, and he counts to ten. There are no shadows, Hitoka is alright. Maybe his voice was too low. Yeah.

“Hitoka?”

She hums, God she hums, and Tadashi all but runs to her.

Outside the cold bites hard, but he feels hot, warm, and alive. 

“Tadashi,” Hitoka says, and her smile is as bright as a thousand moons and suns and stars. She sits with her socked-feet dangling off the veranda. His jacket and a spare blanket hangs around her shoulders, while a laptop sits on her lap.

“You’re alright,” Tadashi says.

Realization dawns on her face and she moves the laptop to the side. She extends her arms towards him,“I am.”

She is, and that’s the truth. He falls into her arms crying tears of relief. 

It’s here by her side that, for the first time in his life, he feels safe -- he feels loved. So he draws her close just so the breeze can’t take her away, so the shadows can’t steal her in a second, so his past can’t catch up and claim her.

“Tadashi, look at me.”

He looks up at Hitoka and she wipes the tears from his cheek before placing a kiss on his forehead. “I’m here, okay.” She says, even as her face is all splotchy from crying. “I won’t let them take you away from me.”

Tadashi knows with all his heart that this is the truth, and it tastes so sweet.

   
   
   
   
   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look I sorta kind of rushed finishing this one (it's been rotting in my wips for a few months now), so I'm sorry if it's lower in quality.   
>  In other news I'm actually working on some of my multichaps so expect something from them in like a month or a few weeks. thanks for all your support and I hope to see you next time


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